


Skinning

by Bluspirit92



Series: Strike Team [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Slash, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2209761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluspirit92/pseuds/Bluspirit92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers finds a man cutting himself in his room on the helicarrier. Being the hero that he is, he tries to stop him. For some reason the man doesn't seem too happy about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skinning

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after I read the amazing G-Men Then And Now, and I began to want more of this pairing, or just interaction between these two. If anyone knows of more fic with this pairing, please tell me. 
> 
> Sorry if the characters are very ooc, but this is my first time writing either of them, and I'm not very good at it.

Steve Rogers paced down the gunmetal hallways of the SHIELD helicarrier, simmering with pent up annoyance at Nick Fury and SHIELD. He really missed the times when he knew easily who the enemy was and who he should be fighting. He had been so lost in thoughts, he barely registered when he made it to his room. He reached for the doorknob on autopilot, and was only brought out of his thoughts when the door didn't open. It was locked. 

Steve took a step back and furrowed his brow in confusion, and considered walking away. He wasn't exactly thrilled with SHIELD right now, and it wasn't like he kept any thing valuable in there. The shield was kept in a secure room in the hangar bay. The only thing that stopped him was that the door only locked from the inside, so there was probably some one in there. And Steve was a little too curious for his own good. 

He took a few more steps back until he was leaning against the opposite wall of the hallway. He looked around to make sure there were no SHIELD agents in the the hall, before ramming the door with his shoulder. It crumpled under the force of his super-strength, and he almost had to pinwheel to regain his balance when the door went down so easy. 

As soon as he was stable again, something was thrown at his head. His initial reaction was to block with his shield, but he didn't have that, so he settled for ducking as fast as he could. All he saw was a thin blur of tan and red. It struck the wall behind him and stuck there for a few seconds before slowly sliding down, leaving a trail of red behind it. Now that Steve could see it better, he recognized the projectile as a scrap of bloody skin. 

Sitting on Steve's plain white bed was a man in a red and black costume that Steve didn't recognize. The man had lots of weapons strapped to him, but so far the only thing he had aimed at Steve was the piece of skin. The man was intently focused on his arm, where the costume was rolled up, revealing a scarred stretch of forearm. Or what had probably used to be a forearm. The man was using a knife to peel the skin from his arm, cutting it off in bloody strips. 

"Ever been hunting?" the man asked far too pleasantly for someone cutting themselves, without glancing up from his mutilated arm.

Steve allowed himself a few more seconds of stunned silence, before eloquently replying, "Hunting?"

"Or fishing,"

"Uh, not really," Steve answered, still not sure why he was being asked this. 

"I was just wondering, because I saw this guy filleting a fish once, and the way he peeled off the skin really stuck with me. But I don't think I'm doing it right, 'cause its not working," the man explained with a little laugh, and his voice grew darker with every word, more pain shining through. "I mean, I've hunted people before, but it's not like I skinned them afterwards, ya know?" 

"Hunted people?" Steve repeated, and mentally slapped himself for being turned into a stuttering fool by this stranger. 

"Yeah, you're SHIELD aren't you, you must know about all the top secret stalk and kill missions on american citizens without trial, probably done a few yourself, huh, buddy," the man waved his fingers around at 'top secret' to add drama, sending little flecks of blood flying. 

"Um, no, I don't kill people," 

The man hummed thoughtfully and returned to cutting at his arm. "You'd hate me then," 

There was an awkward minute of silence only interrupted by the wet squelching of the knife against muscle. Steve took a deep breath and grabbed the knife out of the man's hand. The man stood and pulled a gun on Steve. He aimed it levelly at Steve's forehead. "Give. It. Back."

"Only if you stop hurting yourself," Steve answered, and was proud that he managed to regain his composure and use his authoritative Captain America voice.

The man huffed, "I don't need you. I do what I want!" He pulled a sword out from the sheathes on his back and sat back down, "Would've preferred the knife. It's more precise," he attempted to remove the skin on his fingers with the sword, but ended up cutting them all off. 

"Told you." 

"Are you okay? Do you need me to call a doctor?" Steve asked, even though he was already set on calling one, he only asked for politeness. 

"Nah, I'm fine. It'll heal. It always heals." Steve raised an eyebrow at this, because while he had seen a lot of weird things, he had never seen anyone who could regrow fingers. But sure enough, where Steve remembered seeing bright red muscle, skin was stretching itself back over, still scarred, but now more red and inflamed.

"Why?" Steve asked, and he wasn't entirely sure what he meant by it. Why are you trying to skin yourself? Why are you hiding in my room? Why do you heal?

The man answered the middle one, "Well, I was getting paid by Old One Eye for a job, when I saw a guy with the skin on his arm burned away, and I thought 'Well I haven't tried that yet,' so I looked for a good place to try where no one could interrupt me, and I found this room. It had Captain America's shield on the door, and it was unlocked, so I figured that was like a lucky sign that no one would bother me. Guess I was wrong." 

There was an awkward moment of silence as they stared at each other. "So who are you?" The man asked, "Is this your room?" 

Steve nodded, "Steve Rogers, and yes, this is my room." 

the man responded with a flat "Holy shit." he slid the sword back into it's case and stood. "I gotta go," he said, sounding panicked as he headed for the door. 

"You're sure you're okay?" Steve asked, staring at the man's hand. White bones were stretching out of the stumps, red muscle wrapping around them. 

"Yeah, I'm great. Not only did it not work, I just mentally scarred my childhood hero. I am doing amazing," The man replied, sucking in a deep breath. "I'm gonna go shoot myself," he muttered. 

Steve reached out and grabbed the man's shoulder, "Son, you didn't mentally scar me. I'm a superhero, I fought in World War ll, I've seen  
worse."

"That's nice. You know, when I was little, I wanted to be just like you," The man said thoughtfully before turning and knocking Steve's hand off his shoulder and turned to walk away.

Steve smiled, "How'd that work out?" he asked, not unkindly, genuinely interested. 

But the man was already gone. The only reply was a gunshot.


End file.
